Thing of the Day: College

Foreword: This is my last LOLcat ever, I promise.

This week/end did a fantastic job re-affirming that no matter what events occur to make me believe I am ready and willing to graduate and leave college, I would like to stay at this place forever. Reasons why included:

1. They are doing a casting call for the "Russian American" version of the Jersey Shore, to take place on Brighton Beach. The casting notice says:

"Are you the Russian Snooki or The Situation? Are you a super outgoing and fun Russian American that sometimes sneaks kalbaska, pel'meni and vodka from the fridge? Can people hear the Euro/Techno/Russian music blasting from your car windows before they can see you pull up? The cameras will roll as you do what you do best...eat, drink, and PARTY."

Umm. As someone who has spent a considerable period of time perusing job postings/volunteer gigs recently, I can honestly say that absolutely no opportunity has appeared quite so cut out for my skills and interests. This would be just a summer thing, of course, and I don't really see long term career plans coming out of it (although Snooki racks in 10 Gs for doing club appearances now and several hundred of my fellow classmates paid 10 dollars each to take a picture with Pauly D when he performed at a Nashville bar) but I think the casting call is definitely worth a try.

2. I went to my first gay bar this week. It was nothing short of a phenomenal experience, and if my life plans as being Ruski Snooki or Chelsea Handler don't work out, I would very much like to play straight female best friend to a gay man for all time. My friend Bea was writing a profile piece on a waiter from our favorite restaurant, and after telling us about his life experiences (singing for the Nashville opera, getting arrested for accidentally selling several tabs of extacy to a friend in what he thought was a favor, his brief stint as a crossdresser, his love affair with his cellmate/massuese/boss etc) over a three hour long, high point of my week/semester, very wine-filled dinner, he took us to Tribe and Play, Nashville's two gay clubs. Tribe was a cool, relaxed scene made slightly more interesting by the presence of casual music videos such as this one (Jonny McGovern Gay Pimp: Soccer Practice), afterwards, we headed over to Play (officially called Play Dance Bar) for a plethora of seven foot tall beauties dressed fully in drag, men resembling those in the above music video grinding to dance moves I would be lucky to ever even endeavor, and full on fog machine, strobe lit, techno music glory. I love living in Nashville, but one of the things I miss dearly about New York is the clubby nightlife. Play is possibly Nashville's only actual club venue, and it was made even better by the fact that no sleazy sweaty men tried to dance with me, since they were all too busy with each other. Best Wednesday night ever. Thursday hurt.

3. I spent at least an hour Friday night and at least another hour Saturday night fully immersed in a foam pit. Adults see packing peanuts and think: goodie! my new Pottery Barn matching dishware has arrived! College kids see packing peanuts and think PARTY. I don't know if I am ready to go out into a world where packing peanuts are utilized solely to prevent the new picture frame I ordered to display respectable photographs of my colleagues and myself at a work holiday party from breaking.

4. Not entirely related, but in research for a class project on prison reform, I just read about this guy--"Terrible Tommy," who has spent 27 years in solitary confinement for murdering two inmates while in jail. TWENTY SEVEN YEARS. In solitary confinement. Only one journalist has ever interviewd him, in 1988 (for reference, that is when I was born). As the most co-dependent person I know, I don't think I could spend twenty seven hours in solitary confinement, let alone twenty seven years. For entertainment, Terrible Tommy (cute alliteration, Colorado Incarceration Systems), crochets and does yoga. WTF. I want Terrible Tommy's address, so I can write him a letter, and perhaps include some recent crosswords and Sudokus. Most people will never have to spend any time in solitary confinement, but as adults, they will have to spend time alone, which I do not like to do. Luckily, in college, you never have to spend time alone! As my roommates will be sure to tell you.

Happy March to everyone--Rabbit Rabbit.

Thing of the Day: Stalking

Dear Vanderbilt Recreational Facilities,

One would think that if you have televisions at all, you would have some sort of method for the ellipticalling sorority girl to listen to them and not just see them. Perhaps an earplug in the elliptical machines, like real gyms? Or if not, an investment in subtitles for said televisions? In English, and preferably not Spanish, like today. LOST is impossible enough to understand in Ingles, let alone Espanol. After six years of Spanish, I don't even know how to say smoke monster. Actually, I totally do. Monstruo de fuma. Muchas gracias, Stuy High.

Today I discovered a really fun development from my favorite place of all time that is not New York--Scandinavia. Apparently Swedish phones have developed this new technology where you can point your phone at someone's face, take their picture, and have this software scan the internet for their picture so that you can friend them on Facebook, or MySpace, or Friendster (is Friendster still up and running? I really liked it when it was. In 2005 there was a poll on Friendster about most attractive girls at Stuyvesant High School and I think I made it in there somewhere. Ah, to peak in high school...), or Swedish Facebook. It makes connecting online much easier than searching for all the Ben's that go to UMichigan or all the Alex's that attend Indiana, and is aptly named Recognizr. Except it is also the creepiest invention OF ALL TIME. WTF, Technology.

Google Earth is cool. Anything that allows you to know who/where things/people are more than Google Earth is terrifying. This summer, a friend of mine tried to get me to install Google Latitude onto my Blackberry. For those not familiar with Google Latitude, it is a GPS Technology that allows "Latitude Friends" to see where you are at all times. To the street. No thank you, Verizon. I think Google Latitude was probably invented by a scorned housewife, who via intricate skills of gossip spread it to all her friends, who then sold it to Blackberry hook line and sinker. I can only think of how many cheating husbands' lives must have been totally ruined by Google Latitude. Honey, I'm at the office late--wait, no. I'm totally not.

Sometimes, technology is excellent. At other times, its a life ruiner. As someone whose high school "sleepovers at my best friends house!" were totally ruined by Caller ID, I'd go with the latter.

What we don't know can't hurt us...right?

On another note, just as I decided I am officially a Winter Olympics fan, they decided to suck tonight. I don't even know what this sport is...some sort of sledding? Luge? This resembles the ice luges I see at frat parties, so I will go with that. Apparently, it is the most dangerous sport of all time. Meh. Looks boring to me. But luckily, they are thinking of allowing pole dancing to be a sport in the 2012/1016 games, so things are looking up. I had no idea pole dancing was a sport and not a...job, but apparently they have events such as the International Pole Dancing Fitness Competition and those ladies are getting quite rallied up from their exclusion from the Olympic world. Now that I'd watch.

(Excuse the LOLcats. I've been thinking they're really funny lately, but am hoping it will pass).

Thing of the Day: Cheese Substitutes/The Olympics

Life updates:

1. The lack of cheese and frozen yogurt in my life since Wednesday has not only caused me to be emotionally tormented, but actually contributed to my physical illness. I have a minor stomach virus (I've always heard that yogurt has those bacteria cultures etc that prevents such ailments...hmm, Lent) and have been le miz since yesterday afternoon.

2. On a slightly happier note, Whole Foods has an extraordinarily impressive selection of cheese products that consist of absolutely no cheese. I spent an alltogether perfect Friday afternoon shopping for rice cheddar, soy mozarella, tofu ice cream, almond milk, and vegan gnocchi/ravioli. Who knew all these mediocre foods could come together to so wholly appease my desire for pizza, grilled cheese, and carbo-loaded pastas? Yummmm.

3. Whole Foods additionally offers an even more impressive list of cooking classes . Being as one of my yet-to-be-fulfilled-in-any-way New Years resolutions was to learn to cook instead of just eat, I have scheduled two cooking class dates. Yay. Prepare for dishes a vegetarian would never dream of devouring but eagerly anticipates cooking.

4. In non-food related news, Michelle Obama has invited the cast of Glee to perform at the Annual Easter Egg Hunt at the White House in April. Although my slightly more pessimistic/Republican friends (ahem, Dani), have greeted this news with "I guess that's where our tax money is going," I think this is utterly phenomenal. Someone get me to this party, ASAP. And when is this show coming back on anyway? I have had considerably less fun on the elliptical with a lack of new sick jamz every Wednesday night.

5. This semester, I am taking Rhetoric of Mass Media, a class based entirely on television and films. Other than Vanderbilt's Southern Foods class, I can think of absolutely no classroom activity I could possibly enjoy more. Taking this class has given me an opportunity to watch TV for school, I would like to present my opinions on HBO's new show, How To Make It In America. I'm going to go ahead and give it 3.5 stars from the get-go. First off, it has a really catchy opening sequence, which is crucial to capture the interest of today's 30 second tops attention span public. Second, the main character, Ben, played by a moping and gorgeous Bryan Greenberg, may or may not be my soulmate. He lives in Brooklyn, is currently getting over his bi-atch of an ex girlfriend while trying to quit smoking cigarettes, and have I mentioned that he is moping and gorgeous? Give me deep seeded emotional issues and big pretty eyes and I'm yours, HBO. Finally, the show actually seems to be moving along quite well--it's by the writers/producers of the epically bromantic Entourage, and reflects a similar sentiment in this show, without being quite so obnoxious. I look forward to seeing more cute moping/bro bonding.

6. Ever since Mama Bogo got a Blackberry, she has found that a good way to communicate sentiments to her daughters when they don't answer her BBMs is via updating her BBM status. Seeing that "Nikki Bogo" and "Violetta B" are her two only BBM friends, Mama B does this rather often with no quips about alienating other BBM contacts. Recent statuses have been "Allowance Monday :)" and "My daughters don't love me :(," but recently the Mother Ship's status read a mysterious "I Luv Johhny Weir."

Clearly I immediately Googled Johnny Wier in hopes that he was at least some sort of billionaire businessman, and found even better--

Gay ice skater.

Concerns about mothers' affair alleviated, I decided to watch some brief clips of his performances. Mama B, hailing from the motherland, has always been been Ice Skating's #1 Fan. Wee Nikki and Violetta, in addition to being given years of lessons of rhythmic gymnastics (yes, the kind Will Ferrell mocks in Old School), were given a few brief lessons in the sport of Ice Dancing. Although we epically failed, extensive You-Tubing of Johnny Weir has proved that he definitely hasn't. The man is ice skating to Poker Face and looking as fierce/of questionable gender as Lady Gaga does when she performs to it. Androgeny jokes aside, this guy makes ice skating look kind of...badass.

He inspired me to further watch Olympic ice skating/other Winter Olympic events, and may I just say, although the Winter Olympics are obviously the Summer Olympics inferior little sister, they are pretty damn impressive. My favorites thus far have been alpine skiing and ice skating. Alpine skiing because as someone who just learned the pleasures of skiing without injury/near death experience, damn, those moves are impressive, and ice skating because I think Mama Bogo (as usual) was right--it's awesome, and to be BBM Luved. This evening, in between "writing my paper," extensive Gchatting, and writing this blog post, I got the chance to catch some couples ice dancing. Sweet moves, France. Step it up, Mother Russia.

Things I'm looking forward to this week: Vanderbilt basketball, dinner at Miel, and does anyone want to do this?

Thing of the Day: Lent

When I was a wee teen, I thought Josh Hartnett was the hottest thing since sliced bread (I've never really understood that sentiment, actually. What is so hot about sliced bread? Bread is really a rather boring food and if I were a metaphor inventor I would select something considerably hotter, like spinach and goat cheese pizza, or lobster ravioli, or Ben & Jerry's Half Baked in FRO-YO form)--so I obviously also thought that 40 Days and 40 Nights was the most fantastic movie ever created.

Being a wee Jewish teen, I never really understood the concept of Lent. What the f was the point of giving up something that you liked for 40 days? The Lord didn't have a choice, we do. No thanks. But after seeing Josh Hartnett in all his hotness struggle through 40 painful days and nights (what Mr.Hartnett's character gave up was sex, and sexual relations in every way shape and form), I decided if sexy Hollywood movie stars could do it and find the love of their life in the process, damn it, so could I. So with the help of Google (or were we still using Yahoo in 2002?), I discovered that the purpose of Lent was to "give something up and take something on," and more or less followed these guidelines through the rest of high school and into freshman year of college.

As I have become older and somehow, less mature, I have stopped giving things up for Lent. True, there is nothing actually wrong with this, seeing I am Jewish, but after this weekends' celebrations of Mardi Gras in the wonderful New Orleans (beads, booze, Bourbon Street, funnel cake, jambalaya (stolen from strangers at my favorite NOLA bar, Pat O Briens, and carefully picked over for traces of meat. Somehow, I am till a vegetarian, but I may have ingested half a piece of jamalaya sausage by accident this weekend), pizza, Hurricanes, Hand Grenades, and general debauchery), I have decided that if I choose to honor Fat Tuesday quite so, um, vigorously, it is only fair that I give the same respect to Ash Wednesday.

Thus, starting today, and for the next 25 days (I am leaving for spring break in Jamaica (!!!!) on March 6--one does not fail to indulge in anything when on senior year spring break) and then the 8 days after I return from Jamaica, I am giving up dairy, and taking on writing.

Anyone who knows me knows how I feel about dairy. I consider cheese its own food group. I once ate an entire block of goat cheese alone within an hour. I get Bagel Bites/Pizza Rolls as a late snack every time I go out. And I devour those Fage yogurts like its my job. But, for the next 25 days, I will remain dairy-less. This means: No cheese. No frozen yogurt. No ice cream. No chocolate products. I obviously plan on blowing through hundreds of dollars at Whole Foods tonight buying the organic vegan lactose free versions of all of these products, but I can safely say I feel about dairy how Josh Hartnett's character in 40 Days felt about sex.

I'm not sure I can live without it.

As for writing, I plan on writing something every of these 25 days--whether it be a blog post, a story, a journal entry, a poem, or a bunch of random scribbled nonsense. My only guidelines is that it has to be non-academic.

Wish me luck.

And by the way, whatever happened to Josh Hartnett?!